Stolen from the Ashes
by sleekstar
Summary: Follow the tale of two khajiit siblings as they discover not only the truth to their past, but what their lives unfold into as well.
1. Back to the Wild

Hey everyone! Thanks to my love for Skyrim and my recent costuming endeavors, I've decided to write a fanfic about a few of my Skyrim characters. Because I'm making a costume of one of them, I've decided to write a backstory on her life, and write in detail of her adventures. I hope you like!  
I've read a lot of fanfiction, but this is my first time writing. Critique is helpful but please be gentle. :)

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The first thing she remembered was a screech that tore through the quiet night. That's when it all began.  
A small khajiit dashed towards the village. She had tears pouring down her face, streaking her fur. Her feet pounded the ground, ignoring the horrible sounds in the forest behind her. As soon as she was near enough to the village for others to hear, she let out a scream- one that would send the fur on the backs of her comrades' necks on end. A strong male instantly swiveled his ears towards the young woman running towards him. On closer inspection, he was able to see the large gashes that splayed open her flesh on her shoulder. He instantly threw back his head and gave the alarm- there was danger approaching: and fast. From the strong scent of fear on this woman, he could only wonder what horrors were about to come their way.

The young cat grimaced and hissed in pain as a clan mate accidently brushed past her in a panic to escape. All around her khajiits were pouring out of tents in a last minute attempt to gather their belongings and pack their horses. She could barely see through the throng of cat people as yowls of fear tore through the night. She blinked her eyes in anger- she had no time for this! She had to get to her tent- **now**. As others pushed past her to flee, she fought against the crowd and managed to push her way through her companions. However, the wound on her shoulder was only torn open more from the khajiit that had slammed into her, and she was losing blood at an alarming rate.

At last the young cat woman was able to squeeze her way through the croud and make her way into her own shelter. She stood there in fear for a moment, blood instantly pooling at her feet. Before her stood a hooded figure hovering in front of a large makeshift crib. The hooded person whipped around and gasped, "Kahvvi! Thank the gods it's you!"  
Kahvvi breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh Miraja, you don't know how grateful I am to see you. There are foul beasts attacking from the forest- we must hurry!" The young khajiit in front of Kahvvi gave a determined nod and scooped up the little bundles of fur that were sleeping in the crib. Kahvvi almost yowled in pain as the burning in her shoulder got worse- but she kept herself quiet- she had to be strong. She had to make sure the others were out of harm's way first. Miraja, cubs in tow, was nudged out of the tent by the older khajiit limping behind her. "Kahvvi are you-"she was cut off by a yowl from the cat behind her.

"Foolish girl- **run**!"  
Miraja didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled as fast as she could away from the village. Smoke plumes filled the air as she realized that most of the tents were now caught on fire. Miraja flattened her eats against her head as smoke filled her lungs. She twisted her face in a snarl as the smoke burned at her lungs and stung her eyes. Without warning, an older male khajiit was flung out onto the ground before her, his throat slashed and blood matting his fur. She choked in terror and tried to stop herself before tumbling over the dead body. The two cubs were flung from her arms as she watched in terror as they landed on the ground in front of her. Instantly both of them began to cry, their innocent voices joining the chorus of the panic around them. Miraja was about to scramble to her feet when a foul stench met her nose. She raised her eyes to see one of the very beasts that had been hunting them down for the past few months.

Panic engulfed her heart as Miraja froze in place, looking up at the creature. It was tall, standing on digitigrade hind legs. Blood streaked through its long black fur, dripping from a maw that bore long fangs and a deadly snarl. It was canine in appearance, but the young khajiit knew this was no ordinary wolf. The deadly creature was a werewolf, and this one, along with its large pack, had been picking off the large khajiit caravan for months until they seemingly decided the cats were weak enough to attack full force.

Miraja watched in horror as the great beast reached down with a clawed hand toward one of the young cubs at its feet. She could only manage a sparse "No!" as the beast slashed into the blankets protecting the kit. The smoke had gotten into her lungs, preventing much more than a horse cry of desperation. Suddenly, there was a mighty cry from behind and the werewolf let out a roar of pain as claws and teeth ripped through its thick hide.

"Kahvvi!" Miraja managed to screech as she watched the two fight tooth and nail. The roar of battle sounded all around her- not just her friend and the beast- as she briefly turned her head to her now aflame village. Werewolves and Khajiit were both trapped in the flames. Her attention was drawn back to her friend as Miraja watched the beast let out a mighty dying cry, but not before sending its claws deep into Kahvvi's throat.

"Kahvvi no!" With a final shudder the wolf fell to the ground, its claws still caught in the khajiit's throat, bringing Kahvvi down with it. Miraja flung herself towards her life-long friend, watching the life leave her eyes.

"Miraja…" Kahvvi spoke with a gurgling voice as blood bubbled on her lips. Miraja shook her head, wiling her friend to save her breath but not finding the right words to do so. "Miraja.. You must take my cubs.. please.. protect my children.." she managed to sputter as a violent cough racked her body. Blood now flowed freely from her neck and shoulder wounds as her eyes met with the younger cat above her. Miraja could do nothing but dumbly nod in agreement as Kahvvi took a worn leather pouch out of her pocket, and with a shaky hand, dropped it on the ground in front of Miraja's feet.

"Give.. to them, when they.. are older.." Kahvvi managed to choke before her arms fell limp at her sides and a final breath left her body. Miraja could only watch on in shock as her best friend's life was whisked away in front of her. With a shaky hand, Miraja managed to pick up the pouch and shove it in the pack on her back. She stood there for gods know how long before the shrill cry of the children was finally able to rouse her from her trance. Snatching up the two cubs Miraja tore away into the forest as quick as her legs would carry her, clock billowing out and her tail working madly to balance her body. Her breath came in shallow gulps and her lungs stung like hell, but she wouldn't let anything happen to these two, not after promising to her friend. She stole a glance down to the two bundles of blankets she cradled in her arms. Panic once again flashed in her eyes as she realized blood was splattered on one of the blankets. She was about to stop and check on the child when a strong wail sounded from the blanket. She sighed in relief and kept running. He was hurt, but this cub was strong- he would make it. As for his sister.. Miraja was only grateful the small kit had not been the one to suffer the werewolf's claws. The small child surely would have perished if she had been the one to feel the wolf's fury.

Feeling as though her lungs would burst, Miraja glanced around madly for a place to hide. 'There!' she thought as a great oak towered in front of her. Using the familiar fallen tree to pull herself and her small burdens up onto its thick branches, Miraja managed to let out the first steady breath that night as she felt her shoulders slump in exhaustion. Pulling herself into a hollow cavern of the tree, the comforting scent of fellow khajiits and blisterwort filled her nose. Though long gone, just the thought of her friends and family once sitting in the cavern with her put her mind slightly at ease. She was too tired to flee any further. Her last thought as she pulled her tail around the two sleeping cubs was that they needed to leave these lands- it was safe here no longer.

"Perhaps we shall go to Skyrim.." Miraja managed to mumble as the kits in her arms settled down. A lone howl in the distance was the last thing she heard as exhaustion and sleep claimed her body.


	2. Hunting for Hides

The first chapter was short and sweet, let's see if we can't get a bit more detail now that we're working in the main storyline. :)

I totally listened to forest sounds on youtube as I wrote this first part. ;P

Thanks for reading! ^^

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-19 years later-

The sharp pull from the bow string stung her unprotected hands. She peered intently down past fletchings towards an unsuspecting deer. The deep scent of earth hung heavy in her nose, and the air was damp with impending rain. Amber eyes narrowed as her prey wove through the bushes and behind a tree; she couldn't get a clear shot on the damn thing! Whiskers twitched in frustration as she tried to get in a better position to see her quarry. She relaxed the tension of the string and held the arrow at her side to move better.

The khajiit held in her hands a long bow- quite basic in appearance, but at least it got the job done. The slender frame of the bow was taut and straight, able to send arrows flying much farther than a hunting bow. On closer inspection one could see the painstaking carving marks engraved in the wood suggesting it was hand-crafted by its owner.

The khajiit below the trees was lithe and small- able to move with great agility. Her fur was a rich shade of chocolate dabbed with streaks of a darker earthy color. While her maw and neck were a creamy white, she kept her head low to not show off her lighter colors. Instead, she allowed her markings to blend in with the forest around her, using her adaptive skills to become one as much as she could with her environment. Taking in a soft breath, she pushed herself onward, deeper into the forest.

'Get up in a tree.. I need an advantage point!' she thought to herself as she gazed around for the right spot. The young khajiit plucked a few stalks of blisterwort from the base of a rock before selecting her tree. Holding the arrow in her mouth and hitching her bow to the leather strips on her back, she pulled herself onto a low branch of an oak tree. The cat took the mushrooms and crumbled them easily in the palm of her hand- the blisterwort's fresh scent would overpower her own, just in case this deer had a keen nose. For some reason the smell of fresh blisterwort was always one she favored.

Taking the arrow from her mouth, she re-loaded her bow. Pulling back the drawstring, she slowly pointed the nocked arrow towards the ground. She only had to wait for a few minutes before the deer tentatively stepped forth from the undergrowth. Nibbling on some fresh grass, it had no idea the danger it was in. 'Just a little farther..' she thought to herself as the deer presented her with an exposed flank. Just as she was about to unleash the iron arrow, a flash of steel shot forward and the bellow of the deer was cut short by a mighty blade.

"Thorn!" she yowled down towards the earth. Glowering and angry, she made her way down to the ground.

As she leapt from the tree, a larger male khajiit was pulling a sharp dagger from the stag's neck. "That kill was mine!" she pouted as he cleaned his blade.

"If this deer was yours, Hawke, there'd be an arrow lodged in his belly," his deep voice grumbled, "you need to learn to shoot faster." There was only seriousness in his voice as he slid the blade back in its sheath on his side. If it had been anyone else saying that to her, Hawke would've bitched them to Oblivion. As it were, she had a great deal of respect for her brother. He was a man of few words, and she always took the words he did say in the utmost importance.

Thorn had much darker fur than his sister's. It was damn near black, and if not for the sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead, it wouldn't have appeared brown at all. He had the same darker markings as his sibling as well, along with the creamy white neck. However, across his muzzle were three deep scars that whispered to a bloody battle he never saw.

Hawke flattened her ears against her head but said nothing, instead helping her brother tie the deer's feet to a stick so they could share the weight of carrying it. They moved through the woods in silence, Hawke casting occasional glances towards the bigger cat in front of her. "Do you think it'll rain today? The crops could use the water," she happily asked, cocking her head to the side and giving her brother a fanged grin. He simply grunted "Hnn" and kept walking.

Their feet barely made noise on the earthen forest floor. While it was advantageous to not wear shoes while in the woods hunting, the simple truth of the matter was that they didn't have the coin to purchase boots, nor the knowledge or skill to make them for themselves.

Hawke averted her gaze for a moment, slightly downcast by her brother's lack of response, but quickly picked herself up again as she always did, chatting away again. "So what do you think we should make out of this one's hide? Maybe some new leather pouches for carrying mushrooms and ingredients? Ooh! Perhaps new belts for everyone! I know the one on my tunic is beginning to crack.. if only we had some troll fat to oil the leather once and a while.."

She continued happily remarking about the uses for the deer Thorn had caught. He glanced back at his sister as she continued mumbling, unaware of her brother's watchful eye. Thor didn't mind so much. He didn't like talking, so he let her do all of it for him. He was her blade, her protector. She didn't know it, but he let her do what she wanted most of the time.. let her have the extra potato from the stew so she could eat a little more.. let her have the extra blanket in winter so she wouldn't get cold.. little things. He turned his attention back towards a sturdy wooden structure that appeared on the hill in front of them. "We're home" he mumbled as the small wood cabin came into sight.

They hauled the deer up towards the side of their home. They had a designated 'gutting place' for wild game they caught; their mother wouldn't have it any other way! Hawke mused while thinking of their mother's sharp tongue, scolding them for getting blood on the front porch once. Her whiskers twitched in amusement as she turned towards her brother, "I'm going to go start the stew! Will you bring in some of the meat once you're done?" The only acknowledgement she got from her brother was a flick of his ears before he disappeared behind the side of the house.

Padding over familiar wood, she traced her steps back over the worn planks of the front porch and through the front door.

"Hawke! Is that you?" a familiar old voice cracked from the back of the cabin.

"Yes mother! We're home- and we brought back a young deer this time! I almost caught it myself.. but Thorn had to show off!" Hawke yelled back, moving towards the small kitchen and rummaging through a wooden barrel for some potatoes.

An old khajiit hobbled in from sitting in front of the fire. When she spoke, her voice was rough and cracked; she had told her kits once that it was from a fire, long ago. "Heh heh.. yes that sounds like 'ol Thorn.. always wanting the upper hand!"

Reaching into another wooden barrel, Hawke wrinkled her nose in disappointment, "Do we not have any more carrots left? The stew always tastes like skeever droppings when there aren't any carrots in it.." The old cat beside her gave a laugh that sounded like rusted blades clashing together. "Yes m'dear, there should be some in the garden out back ready to be dug up.. why don't you head out there and pick us a few?" The young cat nodded in agreement and quickly headed towards the back yard. Looking after the youthful girl for only a moment, the old woman headed back towards the den for a little more peace and quiet.

Hawke snarled at the tousled roots that were giving her problems. "Why won't you just come up.." she sighed in defeat. Suddenly her ears perked up as an idea stuck her. 'Thorn's hunting blade! He won't mind if I borrow it to uproot some carrots!' she thought in delight as she bounded towards the smell of the deer's freshly pooled blood. Her paws skidded to a halt as she neared the side of the house. Peering around the corner, she saw her brother sitting on a hacked stump with his eyes closed. Hawke was about to call out to him when she realized his clean hand was resting gently on the scars splayed across the bridge of his nose.

Shadows were beginning to form as dusk prepared to claim the day, whisking away the light to bring sleep to the land once more. Her eyes widened as he suddenly spoke, making the fur on the back of her neck rise. "Do you ever wonder what happened that night?" he asked, his low voice breaking the night, not even opening his eyes.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, taking steps towards her brother.

He lightly tapped his nose and rumbled, "To a deer you may smell like mushrooms, but to me the smell of blisterwort means you're nearby."

Her mouth curved in a slight smile, stopping to stand by his side. Her attention snapped back to his previous question as she carefully pondered what he ment. "Mother said that our tent caught fire one night and you were accidently dropped.." she answered, placing her hand on his shoulder, "she said that some nasty thorn bush snagged you."

"I know what she told us," Thorn paused for a moment, then put his hand up to his face once more. "It just doesn't sit right with me. Look." He took his fingers and rested them on the deep scars. "Seem more like claw marks to me."

Hawke shuffled uneasily in place, "But why would mama lie? I think you're just looking for something that isn't there, Thorn.." she smiled gently, taking a lighter tone. "I know you want some tough story to tell the nords when they come to trade, but I'm telling ya, I really don't think there's much more to it than mother being clumsy."

"Hnn," was his only reply, taking his hand off his face and once again tending to the deer. Hawke watched in silence as he carefully removed the hide from the rest of the animal, readying it for tanning. Hawke decided to change the subject, "Let's finish getting ready for dinner, I'm starved!"

After the carrots were sliced and the venison was added to the stew and left to simmer, the smell of a delicious home-cooked meal filled the cabin, making hungy khajiit bellies rumble with anticipation. Food was eaten in wooden bowls, and set aside in a water-filled bucket to be washed by the stream in the morning. The subject of their dinner's talk only consisted of Thorn's _obviously _superior hunting skills, as Hawke gently poked fun at him for 'messing up her kill' earlier that day. Thorn didn't argue, he merely sat quietly and enjoyed his meal, casting the occasional glare at his sister for saying jeering comments. Neither of the siblings brought up the earlier topic of discussion regarding Thorn's scars; Thorn himself wasn't one to talk to anyone but his sister in the first place, nor did Hawke feel like she had the right to pry in her brother's business.

Hawke breathed a steady sigh and snuggled under a few layers of warm pelts. They slept on the floor on top of animal skins that both of the siblings had hunted over the years. Every once and a while Hawke let herself wander a little farther out of the comforting range of the forest in venture of different animals. Goats were her favorite; they had such weird long curly fur and curved horns! The stags that she normally brought down just had straight antlers that branched up towards the sky like her all too familiar forest home. Wolves were also a re-occurring theme- she had become plenty skilled with bringing down the vicious canines. They had lost more than a few chickens to the wolves in the wild. Sleep gently washed over her body and lulled her into a hunting paradise filled with goats of all different colors. The steady purr resonating off her form was a signal that she was in a deep sleep.

Thorn was propped up against a pile of firewood they kept stocked near the hearth. The steady pop of burning wood was one of the few things that could sooth his mind enough to fall asleep at night. The soft sound of purring came from his left- seems like his sister was out for the night. His darker amber eyes flickered towards the form of an elderly cat sitting in a wooden chair across the room from him. His eyes were half-lidded; he was getting ready to fall asleep as well. Tucking his arms across his chest tightly, he closed his eyes and rested his chin on his chest. Soon enough, his breathing slowed and his posture relaxed.

Their mother watched the two young khajiit fall asleep, sewing together a new leather pouch from some game the young ones had caught not a week prior. She let her mouth curve up in a slight smile at the sight of the two completely at ease. She wished nothing more than to protect them from the bitterness of the rest of the world, and that's what she'd do till the end of her days. Though she wasn't sure how much longer those old bones could manage..

'Perhaps it is time..' she thought to herself, gazing wistfully over the two sleeping bodies. She shook the thought from her mind. 'No. Not yet,' she decided, setting down the leather for a moment to breathe in the fresh air that blew in from the window. 'In due time, I will tell them. But not today, and not tomorrow,' Miraja nodded decidedly as she once again picked up the leather from her lap.

A cold wind blew in through the window, making the sleeping bodies of khajiits shudder.


End file.
